“No neurostims until we’re outside,” Marten said, speaking to them by helmet communicator.
“I’m the maniple leader,” Kang said.
“You’re third in command of the entire mission,” Marten said. “You don’t have time to lead our maniple as well.”
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your treachery,” Kang said.
“We’re all gonna be killed,” said Lance, “and you’re worried about a few wrong words spoken during the hell-ride here?”
“No defeatist talk from you either,” warned Kang.
“Relax, okay,” Marten said.
“I’m the maniple leader,” Kang said. “Training Master Lycon must’ve known you were a turncoat. So he put someone reliable in charge.”
“Why don’t you shoot me now then?” Marten said, disgusted with the whole conversation. “You’re so ready to be their butt-boy, maybe that’ll earn you points.”
Kang balled his exoskeleton fists. The suit’s engine whined as he revved it for combat power.
“Don’t be an idiot,” said Lance.
The five, battlesuited shock troopers faced each other, their suits purring.
“We’re gonna need everyone we have in order to fight into the Bangladesh,” said Lance.
“And we only have two minutes to enter the torps,” Omi said.
The battlesuit with KANG on the helmet turned away first. He opened the hatch to a long torpedo. The others hurried to theirs. Each climbed into the torpedo’s mini-cockpit. They buckled themselves into the seats and flipped a switch.
Slam, slam, slam, went the hatches, and the forward compartment of the Storm Assault Missile was devoid of men. Five sleek torpedoes, like bullets in a cartridge, waited near the single firing chamber.
Thirty seconds later the SA missile leapt forward at eight Gs.
“Here we go again,” Marten said, via comlink. This time, however, he had a little display screen in front of him. He would have minimal control in the torpedo, once it was fired. But having just that little bit gave him a needed psychological boost.
“Next stop, outer space,” said Lance.
“Where we’ll be as free as eagles,” Marten said.
“Yeah. Sure.”
8.
“What are those missiles in the rear of their formation?” asked the Tracking Officer. “Why haven’t they done anything yet?”
“Good question,” said Admiral Sioux. She’d been wondering that herself.
“Particle Shield 5 rotated aft,” said the Shield Officer. “Shield 6 in place.”
“Fire minefields at will,” said the Admiral.
On the screens nearby flashes told of more enemy EMP Blasters igniting.
“Rotary cannons down,” the First Gunner said.
“Only launch tubes one and twelve are in working order,” the Second Gunner said.
“Fire!” said the Admiral. “Fire everything we have before it’s too late.”
“Aerosol levels in the red, Admiral.”
Outside the beamship, HB lasers almost stabbed through Particle Shield 6.
“Get ready to re-deploy Particle Shield 1,” the Admiral said.”
“It can’t take more than ten seconds of those lasers,” said the Shield Officer.
“Get it ready,” the Admiral said.
“There are just too many of them,” an officer said with a sigh. “They are like a pack of dogs pulling down a lion.”
“Those missiles in back are moving up,” the Tracking Officer said.
“Particle Shield 6 rotated away. Shield 1 re-deployed into primary position.”
“The aerosol tanks are empty, Admiral.” A heavy sigh. “That’s it then.”
Admiral Sioux understood. The aerosol clouds kept the lasers at bay while they rotated particle shields. Without the aerosols, those lasers would probably breach the ship’s inner skin before the shreds of another particle shield could be put between the Bangladesh and the hated beams.
She squinted at the VR-images in her goggles. They had destroyed an amazing number of enemy missiles, fully three-quarters of them. She ground her false teeth together. She wasn’t dead yet, so defeatist thinking was senseless. “Keep firing the proton beam,” she said.
“Next target acquired,” said the First Gunner.
Outside the beamship, it was a mass of confusion and beams and missiles and EMP pulses and torpedoes and exploding mines with depleted uranium shrapnel and wisps of aerosols.
“Point defense cannons ready,” the Second Gunner said.
“What are those missiles?” the Tracking Officer asked. “What is their function?”
“They almost look like ships?”
“Are they orbital carriers?”
“What does analysis make of them?” the Admiral asked.
“In this mess?” asked the Tracking Officer.
“Admiral!” said the Shield Officer.
“Is Particle Shield 1 gone already?” asked Admiral Sioux, a hint of resignation in her voice.
“Yes. No. I mean—”
“Talk to me, mister.”
“The HB lasers stopped just before the particle shield was breached.”
“Have we beaten them?” the First Gunner asked. “Have we actually held out long enough and taken all they can give?” He laughed in disbelief.
“I don’t think so,” said the Tracking Officer. “Here come those mystery missiles. There’re a lot of them, too.”
“But why did the lasers stop?” asked the Admiral. “Are they out of juice?”
Just then the lasers re-energized, all the beams lancing at the proton beam cannon.
“This is it!” someone shouted.
“Long live Social Unity!”
But the lasers snapped off again.
There was a moment of silence.
“It’s like they’re trying to disarm us,” the Admiral said.
“Why would they do that?” asked the First Gunner.
“I bet we’ll know in a minute,” said the Tracking Officer. “I’m picking up activity from those mystery missiles.”
“What do we have left to fight with?” asked the Admiral.
“A few point defense cannons,” someone said. “Maybe in time damage control could get one of the launch tubes fixed.”
“Hold the PD cannons. Don’t fire just yet,” the Admiral said. “And get me an open launch tube!”
“What is it?” asked the First Gunner. “What do you know?”
“Is it a hunch, Admiral?” the Tracking Officer asked.
“They’re playing their mystery card,” the Admiral said. “I just want to have something left in case…”
“In case what, Admiral?”
“We’re not defeated until we’re dead,” said Admiral Sioux. “Remember that. All of you.”
There was silence again as they waited for the mystery to unfold.
9.
The 101st Maniple’s Storm Assault Missile nosed toward the mighty Bangladesh like a hound sniffing at the carcass of a bull elephant. Beside the missile sniffed other SAs. A hatch blew off the nose of the 101st’s missile, revealing a torpedo launch tube.
Inside the missile, the firing chamber opened. Like a shotgun shell, the first torpedo slid into the breach. The chamber clanged shut, and the entire missile shuddered. Within the torpedo, Marten Kluge clenched his teeth. He knew the SA missile would fire his friends one after another.
Open, slide, fire!
Open, slide, fire!
An invisible hand used the SA like a hunter shooting a rifle.
Despite the intense Gs, with the battlesuit’s servomotors it was possible for Marten to lift his hand. He flicked on the torpedo’s screen. The huge Bangladesh leaped into view. The massive beamship was his world. Bright stars surrounded the ship, while the flame of the Bangladesh’s engines showed him that it still tried to run away.